


Sky of Steel

by Gazyrlezon



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 00:33:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6099010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gazyrlezon/pseuds/Gazyrlezon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sky was grey, and full of steel. It had been for days. <em>Days beyond count</em>, the Colonel thought. Beneath the sky of deadly missiles a gigantic trench stretched from one horizon to the other, an almost infinite tunnel without a ceiling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sky of Steel

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I apologise for any errors in spelling or grammar.

The sky was grey, and full of steel. It had been for days. _Days beyond count_ , the Colonel thought. Beneath the sky of deadly missiles a gigantic trench stretched from one horizon to the other, an almost infinite tunnel without a ceiling. 

Of course, it needed none. You still could not hold even a single finger over its protecting walls, as the men had quickly learned. Some had tried, to find theirs in a small pools of blood and mud just a second later. 

From one end of the world to the other, no one could leave this trench. The world ended at its walls. 

The Colonel sometimes wondered who had ever built it. _Did they have wooden_ _shields to protect themselves? Did they use huge bombs, the kind that killed so many,_ _to make rough holes first? Has it always been like this, and the trench is as old as the earth it stands upon?_

At other times, he would chide himself for such thoughts. Of course they had been built before the projectiles had came, before the sky seemed a solid block of deadly steel. Then something else would occur to him. _What had come before_ _that?_

He could not remember. 

What he did remember was how Victor, that young soldier who’d been new at the frontline, had told him there had been peace once, and it would return in time, when God wanted it to. The next day they had found his corpse in the mud, blown apart by some well-aimed shot. 

_He was a sweet young fool_ , the Colonel thought, _to believe in peace, and_ _God._

If there was a God, then surely there would be peace, and if there was peace, then who were all these dead men he always found on the ground, so many of them he often had to be careful not to step on them? 

He had vague memories of the thing Victor had called peace, and often wondered if he’d just dreamt them up, to ease the pain in his mind. And the few times he was sure that he had not, that there had been a time before war, he found himself remembering a sweet fool of his own, a mere boy who’d thought the fighting would bring glory. A boy who’d had to learn otherwise, not long after. 

_We all were_ , he’d think then, _we’ve all been fools, when we dreamt of_ _glory._

It had not taken long to learn there was none to be found in war. The only thing to be found in war was coldness, and hunger, and dead comrades lying at your feet. 

And orders. 

They were there, too. Sometimes he’d found comfort in them. It was easier when he did not have to think too hard himself, and then the orders would tell him what to do. At other times, they might worry him, but that had not been often. Normally, the orders were a blessing. 

_But not this time, I’d suppose._

The orders were to advance, to try and take ground beneath the sky of steel. 

It would be his death, he knew. His end. No one could survive out there, beyond the wood that kept the dirt from falling down, where the trench had its wall. 

But orders had to be followed, the Colonel knew. 

And maybe they were a blessing, in a different way than before. Or was it the same? He doubted he’d have to think too much when he stopped breathing. 

He wondered if there would be pain. If so, he supposed he wouldn’t care. Pain had become a constant companion for him, an old friend waiting for him at the ground above the trench, visting him in his hole from time to time. 

He read his orders one last time, then went to tell his men. 

“The General has decided that it is time to strike”, he began, “The attack will start tomorrow morning, after the artillery has cleared a path for us.” 

“They won’t be any path cleared”, someone muttered in the crowd, “there’s never been, when men were send out before.” 

“There will be”, he assured them, “We’ll attack tomorrow.” 

_We’ll die tomorrow._

His men looked unconvinced. 

“We’ll attack - ”, he tried again, but someone cut him off. 

“ _No_ ”, his men told him. 

Then they shot him.


End file.
